Dive In!

There are a few things I’d like to tell that ‘younger me’. Like forget the olives – you’ll still be calling them 'Food of the Devil' and picking them off your pizzas when you’re thirty. Like thirty isn’t anywhere near old, though it seemed like it then. Like get some fresh air; life isn’t all about studying and you’ll do fine in your exams anyway. And that pretty girl who’s going to smile at you across the bar during your first week at uni? Do me a favour and give her a miss, she’ll only cause you trouble.
But most of all I just want to tell you to give life a go. Dive in. Don’t worry about who’s looking or what they might think if you stumble and fall. Try things. Taste things. Travel. Sing. Dance. Well, maybe not the dance so much – that’s a talent you’re never likely to acquire. Be more like that boy you were on holiday. Sampling the local food. (No, you’ll never like calamari either, but that’s beside the point.) Picking up phrases from the local children and learning to swear in three different languages. Posing with a fishing line while your Mum takes photos on her new digital camera. (People will be taking photos on their phones soon. No, really. Trust me, they will.) Lying on your back in the sand at night and picking out the constellations: The Plough, Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia.
And diving for the first time off that wobbling pontoon. The canvas sunshades ranged around you, like characters from the Spanish Inquisition. Your Mum scrolling through the images on the screen of her camera and missing the moment. The setting sun colouring the sea in shades of peach and violet. The light across the bay. And you diving in. Boy child. Then bird. Then fish.